


I Just Want A Heart To Call My Own

by Ninyaaaaaaah



Series: If All Is Fair In Love & War, I Can't Do This Anymore [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drinking, High Fantasy AU, I can't remember tbh, Laurette - Freeform, M/M, NSFW, Oral Sex, Rimming, Smut, This is a really self indulgent tangent on the main series and I'm not sorry, bottom!Jefferson, he's a wreck, honestly, i think, jeffmads - Freeform, teeny bit of angst but not really, top!Madison, what even IS drunk TJeffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninyaaaaaaah/pseuds/Ninyaaaaaaah
Summary: Set during "Feelings Like This, They Need A Home" and contains minor spoilers for that fic. Probably read that first, but you don't really have to if you don't want to, this makes sense without it.This is chronologically part 4 of the series.What did James and Thomas get up to after the ball? Well, wouldn't you like to know...***Title is from "I'm There" by Transviolet, the same song as "Feelings like this, they need a home"





	I Just Want A Heart To Call My Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missjo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missjo/gifts), [Eeevieee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Eeevieee).



> This is a gift for Eeeviee because they're awesome and they love Jeffmads
> 
> & for missjo for listening to me whine and babble on about this thing while I was writing it, and encouraging me!

Thomas hated social situations. 

He played up like he didn’t, acting bigger and bolder the more anxious he felt, determined to fake it until he made it, someday, maybe, hopefully. 

He felt like a fraud, felt like a fake, felt like everyone could see through him, and just wanted to be bigger and bolder because of it. 

He dressed in bright, garish colours, talked big, walked big, made a spectacle of himself because that way no one would ever look at him and think he was nervous, think he didn’t know what he was doing, think he was a fraud. 

He was sure they all did anyways. 

Alcohol helped. Dancing didn’t.

The more he drank, the louder he got. He danced with all the right people, somehow refrained from drunkenly stepping on anyone’s toes, tension like a livewire right through the centre of him. 

When he could finally escape to James, it was with a sigh of relief. He tried not to hurry, tried not to look like a dog with its tail between his legs as he sidled up to James and plucked James’ champagne flute right out of his hand. 

“Hey. That’s mine,” James protested. Even keeled, calm, cool. How did he do it? 

“Not anymore,” Thomas stuck out his tongue, sipped the champagne and hummed with pleasure, louder than necessary. Earned himself an annoyed look from James for his trouble. 

“Dance with me, James!” Thomas declared. Threw his arms out wide and sent champagne flying everywhere. Everyone was drunk now, no one really noticed. Thomas still snatched his wayward limbs back, and quickly drained the glass to avoid further mishaps. 

James snorted, and raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to dance. With you,” he said flatly. 

Thomas wilted.

“Yes?” I mean, they were best friends. They were together all the time. They certainly wouldn’t be the only same sex couple on the dance floor – hell, just look at Lafayette and his stupid freckled healer. Yet, they had never danced together. James didn’t touch him, didn’t look at him like that, didn’t want Thomas. 

Didn’t know that sometimes Thomas lay awake at night and ached and ached and ached for want of James. 

“Why would I ever want to do that,” James retorted, deadpan, as he smoothly snagged another champagne flute from a passing server. 

Thomas reached for it, and James held it away, out to the side and up, out of Thomas’ reach. Thomas pouted.

“Because you love me?” He tried his most charmingest grin, sure that would work, still trying to reach for James’ champagne. 

James sighed, rolled his eyes, and downed the champagne in a smooth swallow. So smooth. So composed. Every motion so perfect. 

He was everything Thomas wished he could be.

“Fine,” James set his champagne flute down, and held out his hands. 

“What?” Thomas blinked, so surprised that James had accepted that he couldn’t do anything but stare, until James wiggled his fingers impatiently.

“You wanted to dance, remember?” James prompted. 

“Oh! Yeah!” Thomas stepped forwards, trying to look cool, trying to look composed, not too eager, not desperate, not like he actually cared about dancing with James, not at all…

Tripped over his own foot and fell against James’ broad chest. 

James snickered, let his hand rest lightly on the small of Thomas’ back.

“Don’t go falling for me that fast, peacock. You’ll give yourself whiplash,” James murmured, as he threaded their fingers together. 

Thomas resisted the sudden urge to hide his face in James’ neck, embarrassed at his clumsiness, burning up from the inside at James’ words. If only he knew, oh gods, what if he knew?

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he teased back instead, stuck out his tongue, glad he could blame the alcohol for the slight flush in his cheeks. 

James just shook his head, and spun Thomas out on the dance floor, taking the lead. 

Thomas opened his mouth to protest, and shut it again immediately at the look James gave him. 

“I’m leading. Don’t even ask,” James hissed, low enough that only Thomas heard.

With a soft huff, Thomas acquiesced, relaxed into the dancing, room spinning around them pleasantly as James lead him through the dances. Smooth. Sure. Relaxed. It gave him a chance to reset and ground, away from the demands of interacting with everyone else. And, okay, being in James’ arms was nice too. 

They danced in silence for a while, and Thomas felt calmer, started to melt into it a little bit, James’ hand strong and firm against his back. The song began to wind down, and James started to step back, just as they turned again and Thomas got an eyeful of Lafayette with his tongue down stupid John Laurens’ throat, right in the middle of the dance floor! 

Thomas whooped, and tried to lean back to see more as they kept turning, succeeding in leaning wildly over, James’ grip the only thing keeping him from falling right over. 

“AYYYY! ATTA BOY LAFAYETTE!” He hollered wildly, as James cursed and scrambled to get both arms around Thomas so he didn’t fall over. 

Lafayette laughed, and John Laurens twisted, made a rude gesture at Thomas, but he was smiling, and Lafayette was smiling, and Thomas just laughed and blew a kiss back at the healer. 

“Shh, Thomas, gods you are making a scene,” James hissed, trying to pull Thomas upright again. 

“Shhh, you’re making a scene,” Thomas mimicked back at James, body loose and liquid in James’ arms. 

“Can you stand up, you’re heavy,” James tugged Thomas back upright, and Thomas swayed and fell against him, laughing. He twisted again to see if Lafayette was still kissing friggin John Laurens – couldn’t he have picked, like, anyone else?- and caught sight of them heading for the door, hand in hand, close. In love, Thomas couldn’t help but think, and it dug in like claws in his heart. Love was something he’d always thought of as being _not for him_ , and he envied the way Lafayette threw his heart into things, and jumped in after. 

So he whooped and hollered after them until they were out of sight, James swearing at him under his breath and trying to hush him, until finally he clapped a hand over Thomas’ mouth. 

“Mph,” Thomas huffed, and stuck out his tongue, licking messily across James’ salty palm. 

James made a face and tugged his hand back.

“Ugh, gross. You’re a wreck Thomas, let me take you home. It’s late enough no one will notice,” James wiped his palm on Thomas’ sleeve, leveling a glare at him. 

Thomas stuck his tongue out in response. 

With a long suffering sigh, James kept his arm securely around Thomas’ waist, and started trying to drag him to the door. 

“I don’t wanna go home,” Thomas slurred, letting James pull him along only because he knew he would fall over if James let him go.

“Yes you do,” James sighed, “you hate parties.”

Thomas blinked, and let James drag him along a little more willingly.

“Oh. I guess you’re right, I do.” James knew him better than he knew himself. Honestly, what would he do without him in his life to steady him, help him, direct him when he lacked direction himself.

James just snorted in response. 

-

The walk home felt like forever. 

The stars spun in the sky and Thomas spun in the streets until he fell into a puddle and pouted while James laughed at him and refused to rescue him.

“Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaames. I’m all wet,” Thomas pouted, sitting in the puddle and only getting more wet. 

“Are you now.” James just folded his arms across his broad chest, and stared down at Thomas.

“Not like that!” Thomas whined. James clearly wasn’t going to help, so Thomas crawled out of the puddle on his hands and knees and pulled himself to his feet using a fence for support, wanted up before anyone came along and saw him on his hands and knees on the ground. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, world spinning wildly.

“James take me home I can’t see!” Thomas reached for James again, grabby hands, needy, almost petulant. 

Sighed in relief when James caught him by the waist, large hands steadying his hips. 

Thomas let his head drop, nuzzled against James’ chest through his clothes, hummed happily. 

“What are you doing,” James tugged Thomas’ head back up with a fistful of hair. 

“Smelling you,” Thomas grinned lopsidedly. 

“Fucking weirdo why am I friends with you,” James grumbled. 

He dragged Thomas the rest of the way home, let them into his small house one handed, and let go of Thomas to get out of his shoes.

Free, Thomas immediately went to work stripping out of his muddy clothes. Ugh. Gross. Good thing he was never going to wear this outfit again anyways – it wouldn’t do to be seen at a formal function in the same thing twice! He dropped his clothes in a heap where he stood, tried to pry his shoe off with his other toe, tripped over his pants around his ankles, and fell flat on his face in a heap. 

“Thomas what the fuck.” 

“I fellllll…” Thomas kicked pitifully, breeches trapped around his ankles, one shoe still on. 

“Why aren’t you wearing underwear,” James leaned down and pried Thomas’ other shoe off, and tugged the breeches from his ankles, leaving it all in a heap on the floor. 

“Lines.” Thomas whispered, horrified at the thought. Breeches were tight fitting, it wouldn’t do to have lines showing through the thin fabric. 

He could almost feel James roll his eyes. 

“Would you get up. It’s late and I want to go to bed. I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.” James griped, walking down the hall and leaving Thomas where he was on the floor. 

Whining pitifully, Thomas crawled down the hall after James. It hurt his knees, though, so he used the wall to pull himself up – made it on the third try. Stumbled down the hall and through the living room where James was tossing a pillow and blanket on the couch, right past him and into James’ bedroom, where he fell face down on the bed. 

“I don’t fucking think so, get your ass on the couch,” James spoke sternly, but Thomas just shook his head, face in James’ favourite pillow. 

“Thomas. Fucking. Jefferson. Get out of my bed.”

“Not in it. On it.” Thomas grumped back. The duvet was soft and cool on his bare skin, and the world spun in lazy, pleasant circles, and he didn’t think he could get up if he tried. 

“Close enough. Move.” 

“Noooooo….” Thomas whined pitifully. Turned his head to peer up at James, standing at the side of the bed with his arms folded across his chest, scowl on his face. 

“Ugh, why am I friends with you!” James threw his hands up in the air in defeat, and stalked away. “At least get under the damn covers!” He called from the bathroom. 

“You said that already!” Thomas pouted, and wriggled around until he was so tangled up in the duvet he couldn’t move. “Help! James! I’m stuck!”

“You’re gonna have to wait.” James called back from the bathroom, water running, the sound of him brushing his teeth tugging unexpectedly at Thomas’ heart strings. He wanted this, wanted to go bed and listen to James go through his precise bed time routine every night, wanted to wake up to him in the morning, wanted it all.

Not for him. 

Instead, he waited, drunk and tangled in the duvet and unwelcome in James’ bed, for James to come and rescue him. 

“…seriously, Thomas?” James re-emerged from the bathroom, changed into soft cotton pants and shirtless, looking exasperated. 

“Help,” Thomas pouted.

With a long suffering sigh, James helped Thomas untwine from the duvet, and straightened it out over top of him. 

“You’re on my side. Move.” 

Thomas just shook his head again, peeking out at James from under the blanket, all eyes and hair. 

“Asshole.” James climbed into the bed and _shoved_ Thomas over.

Thomas laughed, let James push him, then promptly rolled back over and plastered himself to James’ side. He shoved his face into James’ neck, hooked a leg over James’s stomach, draped an arm across his chest. Breathed in James’ clean scent, face against the soft skin of his neck, James’ body hot beneath him. 

“Thomas-“ James spluttered indignantly. 

Thomas huffed and ignored him, nuzzled into his neck, shifted around until he was comfortable, and sighed happily. 

“Thomas! What the fuck.” James pushed at him ineffectively, trying to pry him off, but Thomas just clung on harder, refused to let go, shoved his face firmly into James’ neck until finally James gave up.

“Your hair is in my face. Your hair is fucking everywhere. You’re hot. Thomas you’re sweaty.” 

“You love meeeeeeee.”

“Get your hair out of my face.”

Thomas went quiet, pouted. James was everything he wished he could be. Cool, composed, collected. He was so smart, and eloquent, always seemed to know what to do or say. Thomas had nothing on him, would be nothing without him. 

It went so much deeper than that. 

Unthinking, Thomas pressed a soft kiss to James’ neck. 

James went even stiller, a feat Thomas wouldn’t have thought possible. 

The silence was deafening. Thomas took a shaky breath, kissed James’ neck again, pushed his luck. Let his lips part, and teased over James’ skin with his tongue. He brushed his thumb over James’ chest, light, teasing, testing the waters.

James’ hand settled over top of Thomas’, stilling his thumb. 

“Thomas. What the fuck.”

Thomas huffed softly, breath puffing over James’ jaw. He nosed at James’s neck, kissed it again, suddenly finding it harder to breathe, his world narrowed to James, just James. How many times had he tried not to think about this? Now here it was, real, actually happening, Thomas naked in James’ bed, cock growing slowly hard against James’ hip, mouth on James’ soft neck… 

“Thomas. Cut it out.” James tugged at his hair, and Thomas moaned softly in response, hips hitching gently against James. 

“No- that’s… not what I- fuck. Thomas. What the fuck.”

James tugged harder on Thomas’ hair, trying to pull him off. 

Thomas’ cock twitched against James’ hip, and he nipped at his neck, teasing. 

“For fuck’s sake-“

James snapped, and Thomas found himself suddenly flipped over onto his back, James’ hands pushing him down into the bed, James above him, looking like he wanted to kill him. 

“-what do you think you’re doing?!” 

Thomas blinked up at James in surprise. Sure, James might get cranky with him, and grump and complain, but he never lost his cool, never snapped at Thomas. 

“…kissing you?”

Thomas offered, slight shrug of his shoulders, had thought that was obvious? 

“Why.”

James looked decidedly unimpressed, hovering just above Thomas, arms on either side of Thomas’ head, trapping him, body resting heavily across Thomas, pinning him down. 

“Because I want to? I’ve wanted to for a long time James, James, James, I want you.” Thomas arched his hips up hopefully, squirmed under the firm press of James’ body. 

James huffed out through his nose. 

“Really. You want me. No you don’t, Thomas. You just think you do because you’re drunk and I’m here.” 

Thomas was struck by the bitterness in James’ voice.

“Uh… yeah, I do?”

He reached up, hands on the back of James’ neck, tried to tug him down, wanted to show him that he did, that it wasn’t just because he was drunk, wasn’t just because James was there. It was because it was always James he wanted, every day, all the time. Wanted to kiss the truth into James’ lips, lick it into his mouth with his tongue. 

James laughed bitterly.

“Don’t say it like a question.” He lifted a hand, cupped Thomas’ chin, pulled his thumb across Thomas’ lower lip. 

Thomas’ lips parted under the firm drag of James’ thumb, and he huffed a breath soft through his nose. 

“Do you want me, Thomas? Really?” James pulled his thumb back, let it rest heavy on Thomas’ lower lip. 

Staring up at him, Thomas flickered his tongue over the tip of James’ thumb, caught it between his lips and sucked. Dragged his teeth gently across the soft pad. Watched James’ eyes close for a second, felt his breath catch, didn’t know if he’d caught James, or if he’d played right into what James had wanted him to do. Didn’t care, would never get enough of the way James’ lips parted slightly, how his eyes fluttered closed, the way he looked in that split second of softening, the momentary slipping of control. 

“Answer me.” James pulled his hand away, leaned back down on both arms, their faces inches apart. 

Thomas whined, and lunged upwards, kissing James fiercely. James’ soft sound of surprise made Thomas’ gut twist. He licked into James’ mouth, wet heat searing through him, and oh gods, he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. 

James’ hand landed smack in the middle of his chest and pushed him back down. 

“Answer me, Thomas,” He growled, eyes dark, pupils blown, lips shiny and wet from Thomas’ kiss. 

“Isn’t that answer enough? Yes, James,” Thomas hissed back, breath catching, wanted him desperately, couldn’t James see? Wasn’t it obvious? Thomas could never keep what was supposed to be inside, inside. Had to remind himself hundreds of times a day to pluck his heart off his sleeve and put it back in his chest where it belonged. Felt like he constantly walked around with his thoughts and feelings branded on his forehead. And James… James, who could see right through him like he wasn’t even there, how could he not see?

It should have been so obvious.

James shook his head. 

“Why me, Thomas?” he stroked a hand down Thomas’ chest, over the carefully sculpted ridges of his stomach. Stopped, hand heavy, low on Thomas’ belly, just out of reach of his hard cock. Pressed. Waited. Made Thomas squirm and keen a high whine. 

“Because you’re you! I need you, James!” The words fell easy off Thomas’ tongue, alcohol making him honest, making him brave, heart pounding in his chest. “I love you,” he breathed. Soft. Desperate. Pleading. 

James froze again. Squeezed his eyes shut tight. Took a deep, long breath. 

Held it.

Thomas watched, felt like he was drenched in ice water, his words hanging heavy in the air between them. 

James rolled off of him as quickly as he’d rolled on. Lay down with his back to Thomas, and pulled the blankets up to his chin. 

Left Thomas aching, wanting, shaking as the room spun and spun and James, his anchor, left him longing. 

He turned onto his side, reached out for James’ shoulder.

James shrugged him off.

“Go to sleep, Thomas.”

Thomas’ heart clenched tight and his lungs faltered. 

“James…”

“Go to sleep, Thomas.”

Faced with the stone wall of James’ unmoving back, Thomas gave up. He rolled over and curled into fetal position, hands tucked into balls against his stomach, room spinning. Felt alone. Felt small. Felt a gaping, yawning ache in his chest. 

Stared unseeing at the wall for a long time, the sound of James’ breathing evening out. James so close. James farther away than he’d ever felt before.

-

When Thomas woke, he’d plastered himself over James’s body again, face pressed to the back of James’ neck, arm tight around his middle, leg stuffed between his legs, erection trapped against James’ lower back. The hangover wasn’t as bad as it should have been, just a dry mouth and a dull pounding in his head, but he had his mouth on James’ neck, had James’s scent in his nose, James’ body flush against his, and it was everything he could have every wanted, and it hurt so bad.

“Thomas?” James asked, voice rough with the edges of sleep.

Thomas startled, and pulled back as if he’d been burned, the events of last night far too clear in his mind.

“Sorry,” he whispered. Dropped his gaze to the pillow, held his breath, couldn’t believe he had made such a horrible mess of things, because he needed James, dammit, needed his friendship if he couldn’t have more, couldn’t bear it if he lost him over something so stupid… 

Cringed a little when James rolled over, and kept his eyes downcast. 

“Do you remember what you said last night?” James didn’t move to touch him, didn’t reach out, just asked with his even keeled voice that Thomas admired so much… 

Thomas nodded, miserable.

“…did you mean it?”

Silence.

Thomas swallowed hard. 

He could laugh it off. Could blame the alcohol and the dancing. Could pretend it hadn’t happened, play it down, keep his heart safe from the fall when James told him he didn’t love him back. His heart pounded wildly in his ears, words on the tip of his tongue, fear like a noose around his neck.

“Thomas…” James spoke again, gentler, softer, a little unsure.

Thomas’ eyes snapped upwards, took in the sight of James _right there_ , watching him close, dark eyes intense, something tight in his expression like he was holding his breath too. 

Thomas knew he had to say the right thing here.

Didn’t have a clue what that right thing was. 

Remembered Lafayette, smiling over at him last night as Thomas whooped and hollered, John Laurens in his arms, looking like he’d found everything he could have ever asked for. Lafayette, who’d thrown his heart in the deep end and been rewarded tenfold… 

Took a deep breath, and took a leaf out of his friend’s book. 

“Yes.” He bit his lower lip, closed his eyes, held his breath. Almost shook he was wound so tight. 

“Look at me, Thomas,” James prompted gently. 

Thomas took a deep breath, and looked. 

James was watching him closely, eyes soft, tightness gone from his face. He reached out and cupped Thomas’ jaw with his large hand, stroked a thumb over Thomas’ lower lip in a soft echo of last night. Shook his head slightly.

“You can’t tell someone you love them for the first time when you’re plastered, Thomas,” James said, voice softening, face softening.

Thomas nodded, felt tight, felt balanced on a precipice. 

“Breathe, Thomas,” James prompted. Hitched Thomas’ chin up with his fingers.

Thomas swallowed hard. Breathed. 

“Say it again,” James whispered. 

“I love you,” Thomas whispered back, trembling in earnest now, hating himself for how he choked in all the most important moments of his life. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that, Thomas?” James shifted, pressed Thomas to his back in the sheets again, hovering over him, balanced on strong arms. 

“…what?” Thomas stared, struck dumb.

“Do you know how much it hurt, to hear you say it when you were so drunk you couldn’t even stand? To wonder if you meant it or even knew you were saying it or if you were just trying to get your dick wet? Thomas…” James trailed off, eyes dark, watching Thomas’ face.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas whispered, shame colouring his cheeks, the thought of causing James pain a knife in his heart. 

“Say it again,” James whispered back. 

“I love you,” Thomas smiled a little as he said it this time. Words fragile in the air between them, Thomas’ heart trying its hardest to break through his ribs and claim them back. 

James smiled, and it warmed Thomas from head to toe. 

Then he closed the distance between them, kissed Thomas slow and thorough, his tongue licking deep into Thomas’ mouth and drawing a low whine out. 

Thomas thought he might drown, kissed James back like he’d been starved for touch, slid his arms around James and tugged him close, arched up into him, melted and came all undone like he’d suddenly been granted permission to exist.

Breathless, James pulled back just enough to study Thomas’ face, thumb stroking over Thomas’ cheek. 

“I love you too, you idiot. Always have,” he whispered, and then they were kissing again, lips and tongues crashing together like they’d never get enough. 

Thomas moaned, loud, cheeks flushed, stroked his hands up and down James’ back, over his smooth skin, tight muscles underneath, trying to touch him all over at once, as if he’d never get the chance again, like he’d wake up to find it all a cruel dream. His heart hitched in his chest and he tried to tug James closer, kiss him deeper, wanted all of him all at once, terrified that now that he had him, he wouldn’t get to keep him. 

James huffed a soft laugh and pulled back. Pecked a soft kiss to Thomas’ lips. 

“Pinch me,” Thomas whispered, desperate.

“What?” James frowned, confused. 

“I need to know I’m not dreaming,” Thomas pleaded. 

James laughed again, a soft edged sound that warmed Thomas from the inside out. He arched up off the bed when James rolled a thumb over his nipple, and squealed in shock at the flash of hot pain when James pinched the sensitive bud, hard. 

“Ouch!” Thomas’ laugh turned into a soft moan when James softened his hold but didn’t let go, rolled his thumb and finger over Thomas’ nipple, pinched him again but not as hard, tugged. Moved his hand to the other one and did the same, until Thomas’ eyes were rolling back in his head, soft moans on his lips, cock thickening and filling out. 

“James, James,” Thomas panted his name, squirmed under him. Stroked his hands down James’ body, cupped his ass through the soft pants, and pulled their hips together. Arched up into him, rubbed their cocks together through the thin layer of fabric, and groaned at the way James’ hard length felt against his own. 

“Fuck, Thomas,” James’ voice was clipped, hips hitching against Thomas. 

Thomas squeezed harder, rocked up against James, breath catching in his throat. 

James dropped his head, kissed down Thomas’ neck, bit gently, and then a little harder when Thomas moaned and arched his neck to give James more room. 

Thomas stroked his hands back up the length of James’ broad back, nails scratching lightly, whined in protest when James put a little bit of space between their bodies, until James’ hand found his cock, palm rolling over the head.

“Oh my god, James, please,” Thomas whined, hips bucking, precome slick under James’ palm. 

“Please what,” James huffed against his neck. Bit him again, sucked a dark mark into his skin. 

“I need you,” Thomas bucked up gently, pushing his cock against James’ palm. 

James grinned, kissed up to Thomas’ ear. His tongue stroked, slow and teasing, over the shell, nipped his earlobe, sucked it into his mouth, breathed hot in Thomas’ ear, lips moving over the sensitive skin.

“Can I fuck you?” 

Hot breath over his wet skin, those words right into his ear, oh, fuck. Thomas’ cock jerked against James’ palm, blurt of precome dripping onto Thomas’ stomach. Sticky, wet, slick sound of James’ hand moving over Thomas’ cock loud in the quiet room. 

“Yes!” Thomas panted, thought he’d fly apart with the sheer force of need. 

“Can I lick your tight hole until you’re open and dripping wet for me? Can I fuck you with my fingers, stretch you open, fuck my tongue into you until you’re screaming my name?” James’ words had Thomas panting hard through his nose, moaning “uh huh,” over and over, words failing him, cock flushed full and aching under James’ teasing hand. 

“Say it,” James hissed, mouth flush to Thomas’ ear.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Thomas panted, hips rocking harder up against James’ hand, desperate for friction, James’ words twisting his gut with need. 

“Yes what?” James prompted. 

“Lick me, fuck me, finger me, fuck, just get the fuck on with it James!” Thomas cried, hands on James’ shoulders, trying to _push_ him down his body. 

James laughed soft against Thomas’ ear. 

“Needy,” James murmured, but he acquiesced, and shifted down the bed. Paused for a mind blowing moment just stretched out between Thomas’ trembling legs, looking up Thomas’ body so their eyes met, pupils blown, breathing hard. 

Thomas’ cock twitched again just at the sight of James staring up at him, and his fingers twisted in the sheets, gripping tightly, needing an anchor. 

James kept his eyes on Thomas’ face as he gripped his cock firmly in his hand, and stroked his tongue over the head, lapping at the precome. 

Thomas’ eyes rolled back in his head and he had to fight to press his hips down, and then James was mouthing down Thomas’ length, shoving his legs apart with fingers digging into his thighs. 

Thomas squirmed, panted, cheeks flushed, until James smacked him sharply on the inner thigh.

“Quit it,” and then he laved the flat of his tongue right over Thomas’ hole, and Thomas cried out wordlessly, thighs quivering with the effort of holding still. 

“James!” Thomas’ voice cracked and he threw his head back, breath more like a sob, whole body lit up with searing pleasure. 

James just smirked, and stroked his tongue over Thomas’ hole again, then again and again and again, alternating long, sloppy licks with the flat of his tongue, and delicate, pointed tongue kitten licks, fast and light, slow and firm. 

Thomas’ breath hitched, and he moaned, long and loud, as James’ tongue settled to swirling right over the puckered flesh of his hole, teasing and sucking and wriggling his tongue until the tight ring of muscle gave under the attention, and he wriggled his tongue inside Thomas. 

Thomas cried out, hips jerking. He tore one hand from the sheets to bury it in James’ hair, tried to shove his head down and got smacked again for trying, soft growl of indignation muffled from James’ mouth. 

Thomas’ dick ached against his stomach, heavy and dripping with precome, and Thomas couldn’t take it anymore. As James’ tongue started to fuck in and out of him, slow, teasing, wet sounds filling Thomas’ ears, Thomas reached down to fist his cock, got two good strokes in before he got his hand slapped, and James was pressing his hand over the length of Thomas’ cock, pressing it down tight on his stomach, robbing him of friction. 

“James!!!” Thomas wailed, head thrashing, the pressure too good, not enough, James’ tongue driving into him, drawing Thomas’ body tighter and tighter with mounting pleasure. 

“That’s it,” James hissed, pulling back just enough to speak. “Get the oil baby, it’s in the side drawer.”

Thomas twisted, tried to reach without moving, and yelped when James bit into his inner thigh, sucked hard as Thomas stretched, tugged the drawer open, fingers groping, reaching, until he snagged the bottle and shoved it down at James as quick as he could. 

James lifted his hand from Thomas’ cock, accepting the small bottle and pouring oil messily over his fingers. 

Thomas sagged, pressure gone from his cock, and wrapped his own hand loosely around it. 

James fixed him with a look.

“Don’t you come before I get my dick in your ass,” he snapped, and then he pressed his mouth back over Thomas’ hole, gave him a few kitten licks before driving his tongue back in.

“Ah! I won’t,” Thomas panted, hips canting upwards. He didn’t stroke himself, just held his cock in a loose hold, needed to feel something there as James’ tongue fucked into him, took him apart with hot, wet strokes. 

Then James pressed one finger in alongside his tongue, slick with oil, pumped it in and out in time with his tongue, the slightest stretch. 

“More,” Thomas whined, giving his cock a squeeze. 

James obliged, pressed a second finger in and fucked them in and out, spread them apart inside Thomas and stretched him, made him hiss softly, and then whine as it went from too much to so good, tongue teasing at his rim while he fingered him open. 

“James, James, James- Oh fuck!” Thomas howled, James’ fingers landing a deep stroke right across his prostate. His cock jerked in his hand, and then James did it again, and again, and again, stroking mercilessly over the sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again until Thomas was shaking and panting, James’ name a hoarse cry on his lips, over and over, everything so good, so close to being too much, whole body alight. 

“James, James, please, ah! Fuck me, please, I want your cock!” Thomas wailed, couldn’t wait any longer, wouldn’t be able to resist fisting his cock for real and coming all over his stomach with James’ tongue and fingers in his ass, liked that thought too, but another day. Heart soared at the thought that there would be other days of this. 

“Now James, please!” He was desperate for him, needed him now. 

James slid his fingers out of Thomas with an obscene pop, rose over him again. Reached down and shoved his pants off over his hips with one hand. 

“Demanding little cock slut aren’t you? Fucking look at you, Thomas, wet and open and dripping for me. You’re a mess, falling apart just to get a taste of my fat dick in your ass,” James’ voice was low and hot, lips brushing up his chest and sending a shiver through Thomas’ whole body. 

James gripped Thomas’ hips, and thrust into him, painfully slow, tiny rolls of his hips that had him sinking into Thomas at an agonizing pace. 

Thomas scrabbled at James’ back with his fingers, canted his hips up, whined. 

“Faster, please, faster,” He panted, body on fire with need, the stretch of James’ cock so damn good, filling him up. The realization, all over again, that this was _James_ , finally, fucking finally, _James’_ cock inside him, and it was so much better than he’d ever imagined, making his heart skip a beat.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” James murmured, soft a sweet. Pressed a chaste kiss to Thomas’ lips-

-and snapped his hips, driving the rest of the way into him with one quick thrust.

Thomas howled into James’ mouth, hips bucking, and oh gods, he was so fucking full with _James’_ cock. 

“Please,” he whined, kissed James again, sloppy, needy.

James smirked into the kiss, and fucked Thomas with a punishing pace, hips slapping against his ass, driving deep inside him over and over and over again. Hard. Fast. Thick cock stretching Thomas, slick drag against his tight walls. 

James shifted his hips, drove in again, head of his cock hitting Thomas’ prostate. 

“Yes, fuck!” Thomas arched off the bed, pleasure white hot, searing through him. 

“Can you come like this, Thomas? Just my dick in your ass?” James asked, voice clipped, thrusts quicker, harder. 

“No, need more, need to touch my cock,” Thomas panted, hand still curled around his cock, just holding, his orgasm simmering just below the surface. So close. So far. 

“Go on, then,” James panted back, hands on either side of Thomas’ head, looking down at him with dark eyes, pupils blow, sweat beading on his forehead. 

“James,” Thomas whined. He gripped his cock tight, hand slick with the mess of precome and sweat on his belly, and stroked himself with quick, tight strokes. 

“Yes. Go on Thomas, want to feel you come, want your ass clenching on my cock, want you to make a mess of yourself,” James bent low, whispered it right in Thomas’ ear, words only for him as his hips started to stutter, lose their rhythm a bit, James’ breathing ragged and harsh. 

“James!! Gonna come.” Thomas’ orgasm slammed into him. He clenched down hard around James’ cock, hot streams of come shooting up over his stomach as wave after wave of pleasure surged through him.

“Fucking hell, Thomas,” James gritted out through clenched teeth, Thomas’ ass pulsing around him with the rush of pleasure. 

James fucked him through it, thrusts uneven, tight, and then he pulled out. Stroked himself once, twice, and came with a deep groan, come splashing up over Thomas’ stomach and chest, adding to the mess. 

“Thomas. What the fuck.” James sprawled out on his back beside Thomas, breathing hard. 

“I love you,” Thomas panted back, turned his head to look at James, couldn’t believe this was actually happening right now. 

“I know,” James’ voice was breathless, clipped. 

Thomas shifted, moved to turn and cuddle close against James. 

James stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, pushed him back over onto his back.

“Don’t move. You’re a fucking mess.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. Just… need a minute.” James panted. 

Thomas hushed, and just waited, watched James next to him as James recovered, breathing hard, eyes closed. He’d never been healthy, his body constantly fighting against anything and everything, and Thomas remembered so clearly the moment he’d first realized he loved James, so many years ago. He’d watched James struggle, day in and day out, against a body that wanted nothing to do with anything, to get in shape, to stay there. To ride a horse and swing a sword and just keep up, while he got injured, got sick, body just plain gave out, again and again. Met it all with stoic determination every damn time, and left Thomas in silent awe. 

Now he was here, just inches away, catching his breath because he’d just fucked Thomas damn near senseless, and fuck if that wasn’t the best thing Thomas had never expected in his life. 

He lay still, come cooling on his stomach, body loose, sated. Couldn’t keep the grin off his face. 

Finally, James pushed himself up on one elbow, looked down at Thomas with a dark grin. 

“Fuck. Look at you, Thomas. You’re a fucking mess,” James breathed, eyes travelling slow down Thomas’ body. 

Thomas’ breath hitched under James’ dark gaze and he licked his lips, wanted to do it all over again, as soon as possible. 

“Get up, get in the bath. I’ll be right there.” James rolled up and off the bed, left Thomas alone, yearning, aching, needing James closer still. He whined softly, and James paused, looked back at him. Softened a bit. 

“Pretty sure your legs still work Thomas.”

Thomas whined again, and pushed himself up and off the bed, and his legs did still work, but barely, wobbly and boneless with after glow. He just wanted to curl up around James and go back to sleep. Held. Loved. 

He went to James, kissed him softly, nosed up under his chin, went to wrap his arm around him. 

James stopped him with a finger to his chest.

“You’re fucking gross. Get in the bath, I’m coming, I promise.” James kissed his forehead, soft tone of his voice taking the sting out of his words. 

Thomas nodded, and padded away, into James’ bathroom. 

At some point, the servants had readied a bath. The large tub was full and steaming, warm scent of sandalwood and vanilla in the air. The windows were steamy, air thick and wet. 

Thomas opened a window, couldn’t breathe alone in the oppressive humidity, and climbed into the bath tub. 

He could hear James moving around, knew he’d be tidying, knew leaving the place in a disarray would make his skin crawl so that he couldn’t relax. 

Still. Wanted him here, with him, instead.

He didn’t have to wait long. 

James joined him, shutting the bathroom door behind him as he entered.

“There. Was that so bad?” James kicked off his pants, tossed them in the laundry basket, and climbed into the tub with Thomas. He snaked his arms around Thomas’ waist and pull him close. 

Thomas settled between James’ legs, back to his chest, and let his head fall back with a happy murmur.

“Yes. Don’t want you to stop touching me all day,” Thomas murmured.

James snorted a soft laugh, and gave Thomas a gentle squeeze.

“We’ll see what we can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments fuel my soul <3


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